Beyond the palm-groves ran a small tidal creek. Here were kept the canoes that had given the Britons such a disconcerting reception. Viewed at close quarters they appeared to be stout, weatherly craft, depending upon stones for ballast. In this respect they differed from the canoes used for fishing and other peaceful occupations, the latter being provided with outriggers after the style of a catamaran. Most of the natives at work on the canoes had manned them when they sallied out for the purpose of cutting off the retreat of the boat; and they greeted their former quarry with the utmost good will.
"That old fellow," announced Holbaek, pointing to a much tattooed and wrinkled native squatting on the top of a rock overhanging the creek, "that old fellow claims to be nearly a hundred years of age. He was an out-and-out cannibal until twenty years ago or thereabouts. There used to be almost continual warfare between the natives of Talai and those of Boti, but they never invaded each other's islands. They have a custom of going over to Tofua—you can see the island on a clear day—and having a general battle every New Year's Day, which with them is on the first new moon following the beginning of the rainy season. The victors then have a gorgeous feast on the bodies of the victims, celebrating the event by a dance in honour of the god whose statue is still standing there. At least, I saw it when I visited the island two years ago. Now, watch the old fellow."
The ancient native who, after a greeting to the white men, had remained gazing steadfastly into the water, had just taken up a small bow which with a number of arrows lay on the rock beside him.
Fitting one of the arrows which had a barbed detachable head, he drew string. With a twang the bow-string tautened. The arrow struck the water at a wide angle. Almost before the ripples had time to form, a large fish rose to the surface transfixed by the formidable missile. Scrambling to his feet the old man dived, secured his trophy and swam to the bank.
"He's a game chap," remarked Kenneth.
For a moment Holbaek looked puzzled. The word "game" in the sense the lad implied was a stranger to him.
"Yes," he agreed, when the meaning was explained, "he provides most of the fish for a certain section of the community. Old people here work almost up to the time they die. That is, I take it, the result of an old custom. In their purely savage days the natives used to eat their relations when they grew too old or infirm to work. Consequently industry amongst the ancient men became a habit. Now, this way. Mind the tendrils. Some of them have poisonous spikes. The wounds they cause are not fatal, but have most unpleasant results."
The sounds of energetic hammering grew louder and louder, until at length the party came upon a clearing, fronted by a wide expanse of the creek they had previously struck.
Here on a slipway of recent construction was the hull of a vessel of about eighty tons. She was already planked up, and a swarm of Kanakas were engaged in fitting and laying down the deck-planks. Natives of the island were hard at work caulking the seams with cotton, "paying" them with a mixture of oil and coral dust, since pitch was not available.
"This is my new schooner," announced Captain Holbaek proudly. "Considering the difficulties of construction she is turning out remarkably well. For instance, there is an almost complete absence of ironwork. All the timbers are secured to the kelson and keel by trenails. The planks, too, are held in place by wooden spikes, clamped on the inside by wedges. Each plank had to be rough-hewn and then finished off by native tools, but the men are very skilful with their crude implements."
The vessel was certainly strongly constructed. Her underwater planks were laid "clinker-fashion", each overlapping the one below it. Above the load-line they were "carvel", the topside presenting a flush surface.
"She will at least serve me—and you also, I hope—for a voyage—either to Callao or Panama," continued Captain Holbaek. "With a cargo of copra she will provide me with sufficient funds to go back to my native Denmark. And then—? Well, if I have not amassed wealth I have done even better. I have gained health. Would you believe it? When I completed my studies at the university I was so weak, in spite of my huge frame, that none of my friends thought I would live another year. I came out to Australia, found my way to Tonga, and took up trading amongst the islands. Soon I hope to return home and astonish my friends—if there are any who remember me—not by my wealth but by my health."
He stopped speaking and beckoned to one of the Kanakas—the bos'n of the Svend. In answer to a question the man pointed aft and replied in a tongue that the three Britons naturally failed to understand.
"They are fitting the bulkheads and the after cabin," announced Captain Holbaek. "Perhaps you would care to inspect the interior arrangements, although they are not far advanced."
The Captain's guests boarded the schooner by means of an inclined plank, walked circumspectly along the partly-laid decks, and gained a hatchway abaft the aperture left open for the reception of the mainmast.
At the foot of a rough ladder Holbaek stepped aside and pointed to a door.
"See what it is like inside," he remarked.
Kenneth opened the door. The place was being painted out with a mixture of mastic varnish and yellow ochre. The "decorator" was a white man. He was kneeling down with his back turned to the door. Somehow his crisp, curly hair and gold earrings seemed familiar.
It was one whom Kenneth and his companions had up to that moment pictured lying a mangled corpse somewhere amidst the reefs of Boya, for, as the man turned his head, they knew him to be Mendoza, the pirate captain of the Paloma's rascally crew.
There was no sign of recognition in the Spaniard's lustrous brown eyes. He merely glanced disinterestedly at his former prisoners, and went on with his work.
Kenneth and the others promptly beat a retreat.
"It hardly seems possible!" exclaimed Mr. Heatherington, as the four regained the deck.
"It is, all the same," rejoined the Dane. "He's quite harmless. He's mad—mad as a hatter, as the English have a way of expressing it. The natives beat off the Paloma's boats and captured their leader. I'm afraid he was roughly handled until I came upon the scene. Since he can work I put him to it. It is poetic justice. He destroyed my old schooner, and it is but right that he should employ his time in helping to build my new one. Generally he is quite content, but occasionally he breaks out. Not that he is dangerous. No. He never attempts violence, but his mania takes the form of raving a lot of nonsense about black pearls."
"Really!" ejaculated Mr. Heatherington.
"Of course, I take no notice," continued Captain Holbaek. "It is just a form of madness."
"Perhaps he's not so mad as you think," soliloquized Mr. Heatherington.
"What do you propose to do with him?" asked Kenneth.
"Take him with me when I leave the island," was the reply. "It would not do to leave him to the mercies of the natives. They're a peaceable crowd, but they have long memories. I hope to find a means of sending him back to Spain. No doubt he has friends, and it is no wish of mine to persecute a rogue whom Providence has already punished by depriving him of reason."
"Then Miguel Fe was in command of the ship when we wrecked her," said Peter.
"Perhaps it was a good thing for us that he was," rejoined his chum. "Mendoza might not have gone into the trap so innocently. I don't mind admitting that I felt doubtful about it myself until the Paloma actually struck."